Just Another Delivery Job (NOT)
by LittleBluestem
Summary: The Kid and Heyes are summoned yet again by the governor of Wyoming to do him a personal favor. What promises to be just another delivery job turns out to be anything but ordinary.
1. Chapter 1

"Howdy, Lom."

Sheriff Trevors head snapped toward the general direction of the side door, then back to the dark-haired visitor who had just walked into his office.

"Where's the Kid?" he asked.

"He's dropping off our horses at the livery. He'll be right along."

"Coffee?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Heyes helped himself to a cup and poured out a measure of the aromatic, steaming black liquid from the enamel pot that sat warming on the wood burning stove. As he was pouring a second cup for Trevors, Kid Curry strolled through the front door.

"Howdy, Lom," he drawled.

Heyes gestured with the pot as the other two men shook hands.

"Sure, coffee'd be real good right about now, especially knowin' you're not the one who made it," Kid joked.

Ignoring to the dig, Heyes, poured a third cup and handed it to his partner.

Lom remarked drily, "Don't know that Harker's coffee is much better than Heyes's."

All three men settled themselves around Lom's desk. Curry took a sip, his expression indicating that Lom's summation was correct, although just barely.

"So, what's this important job you have for us?" Heyes inquired, getting right down to business.

"It's an escort job. Easy one, but important because it's for a very good friend of the governor. Do this one right and the governor will look very favorably on you."

"Yeah, we've heard that one before," sighed Heyes. Trevors ignored the comment and continued,

"The governor has a friend, Will Sutton, has a big spread just outside of Cheyenne. Apparently, he's decided to send his baby girl back east to some fancy women's school in St. Louis. Thinks it'll help her land a good husband."

"So, why don't he just put her on a train from Cheyenne to St. Louis?" asked Curry.

"Well, it seems that Mr. Sutton doesn't trust the railroads. Seems he's worried that the Devil's Hole Gang might just rob the train while his darling daughter is aboard."

"Huh. That's ironic. We're going to be guarding the rancher's daughter from ourselves," commented Heyes, bemused at the prospect.

"Pretty much," agreed Trevors. "He's gonna send her by covered wagon. Wants you boys to ride shotgun. Make sure she's safely delivered into the hands of her headmistress."

"How old's this girl? I mean, we talking _little_ girl…?" asked Curry.

"Kid, she's only 17, so hands off!"

"Hey, why do you say that to me and not him?"

"You're the one with the reputation for falling for anyone wearing skirts."

Heyes said nothing, but he smirked knowingly, brown eyes gleaming mischievously over the brim of his coffee mug as he took a swallow .

"Oh, C'mon Lom. That ain't fair. Besides, why would I+ wanna be chasin' after a young gal only 17 years of age?"

Heyes abruptly coughed into a gloved hand, the cough itself sounding nothing so much as a name: 'Annabell.'

The Kid shot his partner a dirty look as Lom went on, oblivious to the significance of the cough. "There'll be a chaperone, too. Sounds like she's a mite older. Daughter of Sutton's foreman."

"What's it pay, Lom?" inquired Heyes.

"500 dollars, but it's not the pay that matters, it's that Will Sutton and the governor are as close as brothers."

"500 dollars apiece?" asked Kid.

"Nope. 500 dollars to split. But that's 500 more dollars than what you'll get by not taking the job."


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were seated in the spacious, comfortable living area of the ranch house of the Lazy S. Its proprietor, Will Sutton, seated across from the partners on a capacious cowhide sofa, seemed anything but lazy. A large, broad-shouldered, well-muscled man around 50 years old and at least 6 feet 4 inches, he exuded an air of authority and solidity. A man's man, he'd earned the respect of all who knew him for his honesty, fairness, and his impeccable work ethic. He'd built his small cattle empire with the sweat of his brow and years of hard labor.

The three men, each with a tumbler of fine sipping whiskey, are in mid-conversation.

"So you see, boys, I'm afraid ever since my wife died five years ago, I've been guilty of indulgin' my only daughter, lettin' her do whatever she pleases. And what she pleases is ridin' horses and workin' cattle, like my sons. She's the baby and, well, I just can't say no to her. Gertrude would rather be out with her big brothers roundin' up strays than learning the - er—'womanly arts.' Now she's comin' of age, I gotta do right by her. So's I'm sendin' her to a fancy school – it's the place my late wife picked out before she passed. Maybe Gertrude'll even find a good husband in St. Louis. Be a regular lady. It's what my Bess would've wanted."

"And you want us to get her there safely." Heyes finished for him.

"Yep. John says you're the best. You won't let nothin' happen to her."

"Yes, sir. We are very reliable and experienced at this sort of thing. But wouldn't you feel safer sending her on the train to St. Louis? Of course, we'd still be happy to escort her…"

"Trains! I don't trust trains! Do you know how many times the Union Pacific alone has been robbed by Hannibal Heyes and the Devil's Hole Gang, Smith?"

"Smith" happened to know precisely how many times that had occurred, but he didn't think it would be prudent to reply to that question. Instead he said,

"But surely, Mr. Sutton, you must be aware that Hannibal Heyes and that other fella never harmed the passengers in all the trains they robbed."

"True, but there's rumors that Heyes and the Kid have retired. Gone straight. Lit out of the Territory. Without them ridin' herd on the rest of the Devil's Hole Gang, who's ta say if they'll harm the passengers? Naw, I don't trust the railroad."

"Uh, just how close to the governor did you say you were, Mr. Sutton?" ventured Heyes, despite the Kid telegraphing a warning Look.

"Me and John are like brothers," Sutton responded, draining his glass and setting it down on the low wooden table in front of the sofa.

The boys exchanged glances. How much had the governor told his pal? Was their little secret still a secret?

"So, it's a deal? $500 to escort my Gertrude and my foreman's daughter Miranda to St. Louis?"

"$500 apiece?" the Kid couldn't help asking.

Sutton paused, grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, John told me you boys was hard bargainers. Tell ya what. If you're as good as he says, and you can guarantee them gals safe passage, it'd be worth it to me. $500 apiece. Half now and half upon completion."

The men shook hands all around. Then Sutton hollered up the stairs, "GERTRUDE!"

Neither Kid nor Heyes was expecting a purported 'tomboy' named Gertrude to turn out to be any kind of example of feminine pulchritude, so they were both surprised when a lithe blonde dynamo came barreling down the stairs. She was dressed in a well-tailored traveling suit in muted rust and forest green: split skirt, riding boots, a snug vest over a prim blouse that accentuated her trim, definitely feminine, figure.

Following her down the wide steps was another girl, this one with raven-black hair pulled into a tight braid. She was tall, nearly 6 feet, her full, shapely figure only partially concealed by the men's ranch clothes she wore: scuffed boots, faded work shirt, bandanna, leather vest, and worn, well broken-in dungarees – the outfit completed by a shiny Colt 45 revolver tied down to her slim thigh with a strip of rawhide.

As the two girls clattered down the stairs, another man, this one older and grizzled, his face lined and tanned by years working outdoors, entered the house.

"Bill," Sutton greeted him warmly, "looks like our two wild injuns are ready to go get civilized." Then he turned to his visitors to make introductions.

"Joshua Smith, Thaddeus Jones, this is my foreman, Bill Brent, and that one belongs to him." He pointed to the jeans-clad Amazon woman. "This is my Gertrude," he said as the little blonde launched herself into his arms, laughing and scolding him playfully, "Daddy! I told you to call me Trudie! Gertrude sounds like somebody's grandmaw!"

Brent shook the men's hands, but his eyes were on his daughter, frowning disapprovingly.

"Miranda," he scolded. "We discussed this. You need to wear traveling clothes – LADIES' traveling clothes, like Trudie here."

His daughter rolled her eyes dramatically. "These are perfectly good traveling clothes," she insisted. "I need to be dressed for the trail. If anything happens out there, a bunch of skirts'll just get in my way."

"Now, Randi, honey, we talked about this, too. That's what these two gentlemen are going along for. They'll protect you if anything happens on the way."

The tall brunette turned her attention to Heyes and Curry, one delicately arched eyebrow raised skeptically. Being as she happened to be almost exactly their height, she looked them straight in the eye.

"Pleased to meet you," Miss Brent, ventured Heyes. He tentatively reached out to shake her hand, but both of Randi's hands were planted firmly on her hips as she looked him over.

"You don't look so tough," she said to the leader of the most successful outlaw gang in the history of the West.

Then she turned to the Kid and gave him the once over as well, her eyes lighting up just a glint when they reached his own tied-down, Colt, even shinier than her own.

"Can you use that thing?" the Kid asked, eyeing her matching firearm.

Randi shrugged. "I usually hit what I aim at," she answered lazily.

Heyes and Kid exchanged a glance, both obviously recognizing the Kid's standard answer to that same question.

Randi turned back to the fathers in the room. "I can protect Trudie," she insisted stubbornly.

"Now honey girl, we've been over this many times. I've let you run wild on this ranch your whole life. Now it's time to put aside your tomboy ways. You have this wonderful opportunity to go East with Trudie, to go to a good school, to find a good husband. Settle down. Be a real lady."

Miranda's countenance showed her obvious disgust at these prospects. She scowled even more fiercely, until the younger girl took her hand and pulled her towards her. "Randi, it'll be an adventure!" Trudie said persuasively. "And at least we'll be together! Now go change into that new traveling outfit I picked out for you."

Miranda's expression softened. "Do I haveta wear those lady duds?" she asked, not ready to concede just yet.

"Yes," Trudie said firmly, smiling fondly at the older girl.

Miranda sighed deeply, then scrambled up the stairs, calling behind her as she ascended, "But I'm wearin' my gun!"

When his daughter had disappeared from the landing above, the ranch foreman turned to the small blonde woman. "Gertrude," Brent almost pleaded, "you're the only one she'll listen to. I'm countin' on you to teach her how to be a lady."

Trudie smiled sweetly and laid a hand gently on the older man's arm. "Don't worry Mr. Brent," she assured him. "I'll take good care of Randi."

Brent turned to the partners almost apologetically. "She's my only child. Had me wrapped around her little finger since the day she was born. My wife died havin' her, so it's only ever been just me and her. Guess I raised her more like a son than a daughter. She can ride, rope, shoot with the best of 'em. You should see her break a bronc." Brent's eyes shone with pride over his daughter's many accomplishments, nontraditional though they may be.


	3. Chapter 3

p class="MsoNormal"Ten minutes later, Heyes and Curry were out in front of the rambling ranch house, loading up the covered wagon with trunks, valises, and provisions for the trip./p  
p class="MsoNormal""We're getting an awful late start, but I suppose it's a good idea to start out with an easy day," commented Heyes as he lifted a wooden crate into place. "Those gals might be used to ranch work, but this trip will be more like a cattle drive. Long days, sleeping rough..."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""They ain't exactly what I expected," commented Curryem sotto voce/em. "Both lookers. And not exactly what I'd call shrinking violets…"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Kid. Remember what Lom said. No romancing! Neither one of them," scolded his partner./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Heyes, how can you even say that? You think I can't control myself around a couple beautiful young ladies…" He folded his arms stubbornly across his chest as he faced Heyes./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Heyes straightened up and raked his fingers through his unruly shock of dark hair and stood stock-still for a beat, staring into his partner's innocent blue eyes, hands on slim hips. Finally he answered, "No. I don't."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Kid looked offended./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Just look at your track record, Kid. These two are OFF LIMITS. Promise?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Kid's expression didn't alter, but he nevertheless answered, "Alright, alright. I promise!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The first day of what was expected to be a three-week journey passed uneventfully. Heyes drove the wagon, his own horse tied to the back. Curry rode ahead, scouting out the trail and returning periodically to report. Miranda, having changed into her requisite split skirt, rode alongside the wagon on her stunning black mare most of the day. Trudie spent part of the time in the wagon, reading a book, and part of the time sitting next to Heyes on the buckboard, pointing out interesting sights. After a break to eat and rest the horses, she rode Miranda's black for a bit while Miranda took a nap in the back of the wagon. When she awoke, the girls rode double for a while, racing ahead, laughing and shouting with glee./p  
p class="MsoNormal"When they reached a lovely little glen complete with a babbling brook winding its way amid a line of cottonwoods snaking through the grassy plain, Heyes called it a day. Even though there were a couple more hours of daylight left, he knew from his years of experience in these parts that they wouldn't come to such an ideal camping spot before nightfall./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Curry, unhitching the team, looked up as Miranda helped her friend jump down from the wagon. "What's for dinner?" he called amiably. Both women turned to stare at him./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Trudie glanced at Miranda, smirked, then turned back to the Kid and said gaily, "I wouldn't have the slightest idea. For $500 apiece, I would assume you and your partner will be taking care of the meals."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Curry back-pedaled awkwardly, "I just meant - I mean, uh, well, being ladies, I thought you two might like to…"/p  
p class="MsoNormal"He trailed off lamely as two pairs of female eyes, one dark brown and the other bright blue, stared at him impassively./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Just because we're "ladies," you assume we want to take charge of the cooking?" Miranda asked imperiously./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I don't even know how to cook," giggled Trudie. "Mrs. O'Brien does all the cooking and cleaning for my family."/p  
p class="MsoNormal""And me and my Pa eat at the bunkhouse with the hands," added Miranda. "What's good enough for them is good enough for us."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Heyes, who had been observing the interchange with amusement, interjected smoothly, "I think what my partner meant to say was, dinner will be ready in 30 minutes. Right, Thaddeus?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal""Oh, yeah. Right, Joshua."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p 


	4. Chapter 4

The four travelers were contentedly finishing up their meal, scraping their tin plates for the last bits of the juicy steaks and creamy potato salad that Mrs. O'Brien had packed for their first night out, supplemented by fresh tomatoes from her kitchen garden and canned peaches from her well-stocked root cellar.

"It's such a lovely evening. Let's take a little stroll along the stream," suggested Miranda to Trudie.

The petite blonde woman was instantly on her feet, brushing crumbs from her skirt.

Curry, who a moment before had appeared as though he was settling in for a postprandial nap, sat up quickly, suddenly alert. "I better go along – make sure they're safe," he said to Heyes as he rose to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his back. Heyes, who had begun stacking up the dirty plates, looked up at him.

"Yes, Thaddeus, you better leave me to do all the washing up. After all, I was the one that did the cooking, too."

Curry grinned. "I'll do it tomorrow night. We'll take turns," he promised, hastening after the two women as they disappeared hand-in-hand down the path through the cottonwoods fringing the stream. "Besides," he called back, "all you had to do was warm up those steaks. Mrs. O'Brien took care of the rest."

Heyes chuckled to himself at his partner's predictable chivalry and began cleaning the plates and utensils.

Several minutes later, he was cheerfully whistling a jaunty tune as he scraped out the large frying pan. Suddenly a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air, followed by three pistol shots in quick succession. Heyes was flying down the path before the third shot finished its report, his Schofield in his right hand, the frying pan still clutched, unheeded, in his left.

It must have been only a few minutes until he reached the trio, but it seemed to him as if he would never get there. He emerged into a clearing with a scattering of large, flat rocks to find the Kid and Miranda crouching over something on the ground, both still holding their pistols. Trudie cowered close by, her face white as a sheet.

"Everything alright?" he panted, skidding to a stop. "I heard shots."

The Kid caught Heyes's eye as he straightened up and holstered his Colt, clearly broadcasting that everything was under control. Heyes breathed a sigh of relief as his partner held up a very large, very dead rattlesnake by the tail end. The Kid's glance flicked down to the frying pan still clutched in his partner's hand. His blue eyes twinkled with mild amusement as he pronounced, "This fella was takin' advantage of the heat soaked up by these nice flat rocks. Guess the gals surprised him."

"I think m-m-more like he s-s-surprised us," stammered Trudie, looking as if she might burst into tears.

The Kid tossed the serpentine corpse onto the ground and stepped closer to her, arms gallantly open, no doubt ready to comfort the distressed young woman. Heyes suppressed a snicker when said distressed young woman ignored his outstretched arms and instead fell straight into the embrace of Miranda.

"Oh, Randi! You killed it! Thank God!" she sobbed in relief.

Heyes shot a questioning look at his partner, who merely shrugged.

"You shot the rattler, Miss Brent?" Heyes inquired.

"It coulda been either one of us," the Kid quickly answered.

Miranda, one arm still wrapped around her young friend, smiled ruefully and said, "That's awful generous of you to say so, Mr. Jones, but we both know you killed it. My first shot missed entirely."

"Yeah, but you hit it on the second one," the Kid answered, toeing the scaly heap.

"By that time, it was already dead." she rejoined. " I reckon it was dead before I even got my first shot off."

"Well, if I hadn't a come along, you woulda killed it in plenty of time before it coulda done any damage to Miss Trudie here. You're real fast, Miss Brent," he added, with a tone of admiration.

"For a girl, right?" Miranda said sarcastically, mistrustful of the compliment.

"No, ma'am," Kid stated with sincerity. "For anyone! I ain't seen too many men could beat you."

"She can outdraw all the hands and both our Pas, too," piped up Trudie proudly, scrubbing the remaining tears from her cheeks.

"But you, Mr. Jones," said Miranda in awe, "you're amazing. You plugged that snake between its eyes before I'd even cleared leather. And like you said, I'm no slouch. Why, I bet you might could even beat Kid Curry himself."

"Oh, no, I'm afraid that would be impossible," offered Kid Curry, quite truthfully.

"Now you're just being modest," said Miranda. "How'd ya get to be so fast?"

"Practice," said the Kid. "I could give you a few pointers..."

"Really?" asked Miranda eagerly.

"Maybe in the morn – " Heyes began to suggest, but before he could finish his sentence, Miranda was asking, "Right now?"

"Sure," answered Curry. "No time like the present. Let's go set up some targets."

Trudie and Heyes shared a glance, and it seemed to Heyes that they were thinking the exact same thing: "My partner and that gun of his/hers. Sheesh."

As the Kid and Miranda moved off to look for something to shoot at, the other two strolled back to the campsite, skirting the unfortunate reptile. Heyes finished putting the dishes and pans away, then rummaged through his saddle bags for his book, hoping to take advantage of the waning sunlight. As he settled down on his bedroll, Trudie emerged from the wagon, a book of her own in her hand. She glanced shyly at the dark-haired man, then sat down on Curry's bedroll adjacent to his.

"I see you like to read, too, Mr. Smith," she ventured.

"Yes, I do. Thaddeus is always complaining I've got my nose in a book all the time."

"Randi says the same thing about me. I suppose it's what I'm most looking forward to about going to school. I'll get to read so many books and discuss them with my professors." She paused, frowning. "Daddy says it's not ladylike to read so much."

"Nonsense," said Heyes. "I find a woman who reads very attractive." Oops. He cursed himself mentally. Am I flirting with her? "What are you reading, Miss Sutton?" he asked quickly, hoping his comment hadn't been misinterpreted.

 _"Far from the Madding Crowd_ ," she replied, holding up the book for him to see. "And please call me Trudie."

"Only if you call me Joshua," he said, leaning over to get a closer look at the author. "Oh, I enjoy Thomas Hardy, but I haven't read that one yet."

"I simply adore the main character, Bathsheba," gushed Trudie. "She's a very independent woman. I'll loan it to you when I'm done. What have you got?"

"Jules Verne," Heyes answered, turning the book so she could see the cover. " _Around the World in Eighty Days_."

"Oh, that's a great one, and _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ was wonderful as well. Who's your favorite author, Joshua?"

"Hmmm. That's a hard one. If pressed, I suppose I would pick Mark Twain."

"I love Twain. He can turn a phrase with the best of them. He's my favorite American author, but my all-time favorite writer would have to be William Shakespeare. Even though Randi says he's an old fuddy-duddy."

"Talk about turning a phrase," laughed Heyes, then he launched into one of his favorite passages: "Words, words, words."

Trudie immediately supplied the next line, affecting a gooey Shakespearean accent: "What is the matter, my lord?"

"Between who?" answered Heyes, right on cue, adding just a hint of a British clip into his voice.

"I mean, the matter that you read, my lord," she quoted, then began giggling mirthfully, no longer able to sustain her pseudo-serious manner.

"Wait a minute!" Heyes suddenly said. " _Hamlet_! – you weren't named after….?

"No!" Trudie said emphatically. "I doubt my mother ever read Shakespeare, and if she did, I am sure she wouldn't have named me for Hamlet's horrible, selfish mother! I'm named for my grandmother."

"Is that why you like being called Trudie?" asked Heyes.

"That, and my full name just sounds so - so, old and grumpy," laughed Trudie. "Randi says it should be a crime to call me Gertrude!"

As they continued to chat amiably, Heyes could hear the rapid fire of Colt 45s in the distance. He smiled to himself in disbelief. Here was the Kid, off doing target practice with the tall, strong, self-assured brunette - decidedly not a helpless damsel-in-distress and exactly the opposite of the kind of girl the Kid usually fell for. In fact, much more Heyes's type, if he indeed had a type. And here was he, Hannibal Heyes, with the pretty, petite, blonde, extremely feminine Trudie – Kid's usual "type" – discussing Shakespeare, no less! And sheesh, neither one of us should be acting like this, he scolded himself. If any women were ever off limits, these two were by far the farthest off! Better have a talk with the Kid when he gets back, he told himself firmly. This was going to be a long trip and they couldn't afford to get too chummy.


	5. Chapter 5

Dusk was just settling in when the two shooters returned to the campfire. As soon as she caught sight of them, Trudie stopped the conversation in mid-sentence and leapt to her feet. She rushed over to the pair as if she hadn't seen her friend in a year or more.

"How'd you do, Randi?" she asked eagerly. "Did you show Mr. Jones how good you can shoot?"

"She sure did," smiled Curry. "And please, call me Thaddeus."

"Come sit by the fire," called Heyes. "It's getting a bit chilly now the sun's gone down."

"I'm pretty tuckered out," Miranda answered, her eyes on Trudie. "Think it's time to call it a night. You comin', Trudie?"

"Oh yes, I'm simply exhausted," Trudie answered, adding an elaborate yawn. "Good night, gentlemen."

The two women retreated toward the covered wagon, arm in arm. Heyes watched then go thoughtfully.

After the girls climbed into the wagon, the partners settled down next to the dying campfire. The low murmur of female voices punctuated by an occasional giggle drifted across the campsite. As Heyes poked at the embers with a stick he mused, "Ya know, Kid, I don't think we have to worry about either of those ladies falling for either one of us."

"Why? Think they're holdin' out for rich husbands in St Louis like their Pas want them to?"

"Nooo. Not exactly."

Heyes gazed pointedly at the caravan, then back at his partner.

Kid looked at Heyes blankly.

Soft laughter emanated from the wagon. Heyes raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

The Kid turned his head back toward the caravan, frowning, then back to Heyes again.

His blue eyes widened.

"Ya mean - ya think – you're not sayin - "

Heyes nodded knowingly, saying nothing.

"Ya mean, like Gus and Zeke on that very first cattle drive we worked?"

"Mmm-hmmm. And there were a couple fellas in the Plummer gang with me – Rick and Slade. And we've met a few more here and there over the years…"

"Partners who are more than partners," Curry answered significantly.

"Yep."

"But these are girls – um, women."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"I thought it was only men who …you know… not ladies…"

"Why not ladies, too Kid?"

"Well, I just… I mean, how would they…? Well, um, I suppose I just never knew any, that's all."

"I expect it's a lot easier for ladies to hide it. Remember back in Lawrence? The school teacher, Miss White and the librarian, Miss Blake?"

"I always thought they were sisters, or sisters-in-law or something…"

"Not sisters, Kid. They lived together in that big old house on the Main Street."

"So, lotsa spinsters live together to save expenses, and for, you know, companionship."

Heyes nodded at that last word. Kids eyes grew wider as he thought of the possibilities. Then he asked, "Heyes, we were just kids then. How could you have known?"

"Well, I didn't then. And I don't know for sure even now. But there's something I saw once that I just never forgot. I was in the library, reading – it was almost closing time. Miss White brought in a book to return. When she gave it to Miss Blake, there was just something about the way their hands brushed against each other. And then they looked into each other's eyes. It was just, just a feeling I had… Didn't really figure it out 'til much later."

"But both Miss White and Miss Blake were so, you know, _feminine_. Not tomboys like these gals. All frills and ruffles and the like."

"That don't mean nothing. Trudie's real girlish, despite her tomboy ways. And remember Leslie O'Hara – nothing frilly about her, but I can vouch for… well, you know." Heyes paused, grinning to himself, fondly remembering that time in Denver after a particularly lucky coin toss. He shook off the happy memories, then said, "Women might dress mannish or girlish, don't mean they're this way or that way. Just like men don't have to be womanish to be…um…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," agreed Curry, nodding, "both Gus and Zeke were about the toughest sons of bitches you'd ever wanna know. Either one could beat the tar outta ya soon as look atcha."

"Yeah, so I guess you never can tell."

Kid looked over at the wagon speculatively, "…but Heyes, how do they…?"

"That's none of our business, Kid. And who a man or woman chooses to love is _nobody_ 's business. It isn't like it's hurting anyone. Shame they have to hide it, though."

"Yeah, why is that? Why is it some folks think they got the right to tell other folks what's proper and what ain't? And ya know what, too? It's usually them so-called Christian folks that go around judgin' everyone and tellin' 'em what they do is evil. Seems a mite hypocritical to me."

"Now, Kid," admonished his partner. "You can't blame all Christians for what only a few do or say."

"S'pose you're right, Heyes," admitted Curry, somewhat chastised. "Guess it ain't all of 'em. Just those really loud preacher-types that wanna call down the fire and brimstone."

"That's right, Kid. Most Christians we've run across are good-hearted, kind people that just want to live in peace. Think of our own folks. Think of Sister Julia! Or Reverend Spencer - and how about that sweet little Sister Grace you had a thing for in Apache Springs?"

Kid looked even more mollified and threw up his hands, saying, "Alright, alright! You're right as usual, Heyes. I guess it just makes me mad. There's just some folks that say they're Christian but they really ain't. Can we at least agree on that?"

"Yup," agreed Heyes with a dimpled grin at his partner's consternation. "Ya wanna take first watch or second?"

"Flip for it…?"


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Heyes was awake with the sun, even before his partner came to rouse him. Curry, seeing Heyes up and about, collapsed into his bedroll wordlessly. He had lost the coin toss and gotten stuck with the midnight to 6:00 am watch. Heyes tiptoed about the campsite, adding more wood to the fire, then putting on a pot of coffee and starting breakfast, trying to let his partner sleep for at least a little while. The aroma of frying bacon and brewing coffee soon permeated the area. Two sleepy faces peeked out of the canvas covering the wagon. "Breakfast!" called Heyes softly. As the women climbed out of the wagon, he nudged the sleeping form. "Thaddeus, why don't you start out in the wagon today? Get a little sleep while we put some miles under our belts?"

"What, and miss breakfast?" Curry asked in mild shock that his partner would suggest such an outlandish idea.

Trudie and Miranda joined the men at the campfire. They noticed that Miranda was once again wearing the faded dungarees and other men's attire that her father had made her change out of the day before.

She saw their gaze and said defensively, "What?"

"We didn't say anything," chuckled Heyes.

"Why shouldn't I be comfortable?" demanded Miranda. "YOU try wearing one of those stupid skirts and see how you like it!"

This sent Trudie into a fit of giggles. Heyes teased, "I doubt I could fit into your clothing, Miss Brent."

Miranda scanned his narrow waist and hips critically. "Well, you probably couldn't get it buttoned. Your waist is bigger than mine. But your hips are definitely smaller. Still, I bet you could manage to get into it. Come on, I dare you!"

"Randi!" breathed Trudie, scandalized.

Curry was suddenly wide awake. "You can't seriously be thinking of doing it, Joshua!"

"Why not?" demanded Miranda. "Why should women have to wear these ridiculous get-ups while men get to wear whatever they like? How would you like to be made to wear a corset?!"

Heyes changed the subject swiftly by asking who wanted coffee and began to pour the rich brew into their tin mugs.

And so the journey continued, one day slipping into the next. Heyes had mapped out the most efficient and safest route ahead of time. Much of the way, they paralleled the railroad tracks. Whenever they'd see the tell-tale puff of smoke from an approaching locomotive, the boys would say they wished they'd taken a train instead of a wagon, but truth be told, the trip wasn't so bad. They'd done much harder jobs for $500 a piece, that was certain.

The day they passed a small, hand-lettered sign reading: "Welcome to Kansas," Curry happened to be sitting in the wagon next to his partner. The girls were dozing in the back and the three riding horses trotted along behind it. Heyes and Curry looked at each other mutely. They'd only stepped foot in Kansas a handful of times since their youthful escape from Valparaiso, but it always brought on mixed emotions.

Kansas was even flatter than the grasslands of northeastern Colorado that they'd cut across, if that was possible. "It's so flat you could stand on a tomato can and see the curvature of the earth," joked Heyes later that day and everyone had laughed.

Now and again they traced old wagon trails that typically had been worn into the soil by a parade of travelers in the opposite direction. Occasionally they came across the flotsam and jetsam that westward bound pioneers had abandoned on their journey to a better life, sad remnants sitting forlornly on the windswept prairie. Sometimes they passed lonely graves, grim reminders of a time in the not-so-distant past when not everyone made it to that new life they'd imagined.

But for a large portion of the trek, they wended their way eastward through a sea of grass. The wide-open plains seemed to stretch on into infinity, the big blue dome of sky not only above them, but all around them in every direction. Sometimes Curry drove and Heyes rode ahead and sometimes they switched. On good days they made 50 miles. On days when the terrain was rough or a summer squall blew up, only 20 or 30.

To pass the time, Miranda and the Kid practiced target shooting and he helped her improve her fast draw. Heyes and Trudie read each other's books and discussed them at great length. Kid and Heyes took turns making dinner, the girls never lifting a finger when it came to cooking or cleaning up. Miranda occasionally supplemented their meals with wild game, as did Curry. The fresher provisions packed so lovingly by Mrs. O'Brien had finally been used up and beans and biscuits started to get old after a while. Whenever they could, they'd stop in a town and stay in a hotel, first requiring Miranda to change into the "lady duds" she so despised. She hated wearing an actual dress even more than the riding skirt, but she went along with it - albeit with a measure of grumbling and complaining - in return for sleeping between clean sheets on a real mattress and eating good meals in a restaurant. It was a welcome respite for all four travelers. Before hitting the trail again, they'd stop in the local mercantile and load up on fresh food to last a few days.

Some evenings after a long day on the trail the four traveling companions would sit around the campfire under the star-spangled sky and talk into the night, Heyes entertaining the girls with stories of their many adventures that were mostly true. Other nights they would play poker. Trudie was surprisingly good, despite her egregious tells. The other players immediately knew when she had a good hand, and Miranda teased her mercilessly about it, but that didn't dampen her enthusiasm. Miranda was nearly as good a player as Heyes, with a poker face that rivaled Curry's. She frequently tried to get Heyes to take the bet that if he lost he would try on her riding skirt. As masterful a player as he was, Heyes steadfastedly refused to take on those odds. Curry found himself urging his partner to accept the bet until she started daring him as well. Then he shut up really fast.


	7. Chapter 7

One starry evening found the foursome seated around the campfire, sipping coffee and shooting the breeze. Heyes had just finished telling the story of the time he and Thaddeus had been recruited as deputies and brought a gang of ruthless bank robbers to justice in Junction City. He skipped over the part about Clitterhouse and his betrayal, but detailed the outlaws' escape and subsequent recapture, adding quite a few exciting but completely fictitious events to make up for the parts he'd had to leave out.

"Oh my," commented Trudie. "That's pretty impressive, just the two of you catching all those outlaws."

"Ya ever run across any big-time outlaws," asked Miranda. "Somebody we might've heard of? Like maybe Hannibal Heyes or Kid Curry?"

"Well, there was that one time Joshua played poker against Doc Holiday," suggested Curry swiftly.

"And how about the time you beat Wild Bill Hickock in a shooting contest, Thaddeus?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah, but Hickock wasn't actually an outlaw…"

At the mention of Hickock, Miranda was off on a different tack, "Did you meet Calamity Jane?" she asked eagerly.

"Who?" asked Curry.

"You can't tell me you never heard of Calamity Jane! She was friends with Hickock – _more_ than friends, so the story goes. She tried to avenge his murder. She was known for hard drinking, sharp shooting, and always dressing in men's clothes. I read about her in a dime novel."

"Iffen I met her, I think I woulda remembered," answered the Kid. "But once I saw Belle Starr - in Dallas some years back. Folks pointed her out as she rode by, proud as a queen."

Miranda sat up straight, all ears. "Is it true she rides side-saddle?"

"Yep. Saw it for myself. Wears dresses, too, real fancy ones, and pretty," he said teasingly. "And a great big hat with an ostrich feather on it," he added.

"How can she ride like that?" scoffed Miranda. "Now if I were a lady outlaw, I'd wear trousers and sit astride. I'd hold my reins in my teeth and ride hell-bent for leather, shooting with both hands. I'd have a gang of all women – no men allowed - and we'd rob trains and banks, but we wouldn't hurt nobody, lessen they were harming someone defenseless. Then we'd rain down righteous justice upon them. I'd be clever like Hannibal Heyes and fast on the draw like Kid Curry - only I'd be more like the Robin Hood version of them. We'd steal from the rich and give to the poor, the widows, the orphans, the women that have no choice but to sell their bodies just to survive."

Trudie's eyes shone with admiration as she listened, enraptured, to her friend's fantasy.

"Whoa… slow down there, Randi! Sounds like you've been thinking about this a quite a bit," cautioned Heyes.

Miranda answered solemnly, "I've never been anywhere until now. I've only known the ranch. And even there I had to fight to be accepted by the men, had to prove I could ride and rope and shoot as good or better than any of them. But now I've seen a little bit of the world. I've met saloon girls. I've seen so-called proper women look down their noses at them. There's not many choices for a woman who wants to be independent - unless maybe she's born rich, and even then a lot depends on her Pa. Let's see. I can think of three possibilities: School marm. Shoot me first. Wife. Shoot me twice. Please. Saloon girl. Believe me, they may dress all glamorous, but what kind of life is that? So what else is there?" She paused, then smiled and pronounced slowly, savoring the syllables: "Outlaw."

The Kid and Heyes were momentarily speechless. Trudie began to applaud enthusiastically.

"No," began the normally silver-tongued one, at a rare loss for words. "That's – that's just crazy!"

"Maybe for you," she retorted. "You're a man. You've always had choices. It's different for women."

Two pairs of deep brown eyes stared each other down for a long moment. Miranda was the first to look away, but not in defeat. "Come on, Trudie," she commanded. "Time for bed."

As the two women headed toward the wagon, the partners could hear Trudie saying, "You were wonderful, Randi!"

Curry turned to his partner, his eyebrows forming an inverted V. "What do we say to that, Heyes?" he asked.

"It's late. Let's don't worry about it until the morning. Whose turn is it to take first watch?"


	8. Chapter 8

The Kid was on breakfast duty, seeing as his partner had taken the night watch and currently grabbing some shut-eye. He decided to wake the girls first, let Heyes sleep as long as possible. He walked quietly over to the wagon and rapped on its wooden side. "Ladies," he whispered, "Trudie, Randi. Breakfast's ready."

There was no answer, so he rapped a little louder and tried again.

After a third attempt, he said loudly, "Ya better be decent. I'm comin' in." He stepped up onto the back of the wagon and pushed the canvas flap aside.

The wagon was empty.

"Shit."

Hopping to the ground, he ran swiftly to where they'd hobbled the horses. There were only four where there should have been five. Mariah, Miranda's big black mare was missing. "Shit," Curry repeated and hastened to break the news to Heyes.

"What do you mean gone?" Heyes was bleary-eyed, struggling into a sitting position after being woken abruptly by a very worried Kid Curry.

"I mean gone. Like not here anymore. Like they took Mariah and they're just plain gone."

"Where could they have gone off to?"

"I don't know – maybe to go become 'lady outlaws' the way they were talkin' last night. Heyes, we gotta find 'em."

"Don't worry, Kid, we will. I'll saddle our horses. You look for their trail."

"What about the team? And the wagon?"

"We'll have to leave them here for now. Trust that nobody comes along."

Heyes quickly doused the fire and chugged a cup of coffee so fast it burned his throat all the way down. He grabbed a biscuit and bacon sandwich, and jogged over to the horses. While he was cinching the second saddle, Curry appeared at his side.

"Found their tracks. They only have about a half hour head start."

In one smooth, simultaneous motion, the partners swung up into their saddles and galloped off in the direction the Kid pointed out.


	9. Chapter 9

After an hour of hard riding, Curry and Heyes reined in their mounts. The landscape was so very flat here that they could see for miles in all directions. They also were very aware that they could be seen for miles just as easily. Visible on the horizon ahead was a faint column of smoke. They walked their horses now, cautiously. No sense in spooking the girls – or whoever might be making the smoke.

As they neared the column of smoke, they could see it was issuing from a chimney. The chimney was attached to a dilapidated old farmhouse, paint peeled and all but burnt away by the unrelenting prairie sun. Dismounting, the boys led their horses closer and closer to the building. When the Kid's dark brown gelding let out a nicker, the answering neigh was unmistakably Mariah. She was tied to a length of fence between two strange horses.

Stealthily, Heyes and Curry ghosted up to the farmhouse, guns drawn, every fiber of their beings on full alert. Crouching beneath a window in the rear wall of the building, they listened carefully to the conversation within, ready to spring into action.

A male voice, thick with the effects of alcohol, said jeeringly, "Lemme get this straight. Y'all gals are lady outlaws? And leaders of an all-lady outlaw gang?"

"That's right, Mister." It was Miranda's voice, full of bravado as she bluffed, "So ya better just let us go before our gang shows up and shoots up this place and you with it."

"Bert, these ladies duresare funny, ain't they?" the male voice said, snickering.

"Never mind that, they's awful purty, Deke," responded a second voice, apparently Bert's.

"Ya know ladies, all the best lady outlaws like to have a good time," wheedled the man called Deke. "Y'all wanna have a real good time with me and Bert here?"

Heyes could feel Kid tense up next to him. Then they heard the unmistakable splat of Miranda spitting into the man's face, followed by the solid whap of a palm across a cheek. After this, there was a whimper that sounded more like it issued from Trudie than the older girl.

Kid, his face grimly determined, began to rise slowly. Heyes grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down.

"Hold on, Kid," he hissed. "We need a plan."

"I plan to wipe up the floor with that yahoo," Curry hissed back.

"Wait until we get a look inside," Heyes insisted. He rose from his crouch cautiously until he could peer into the window without being seen. After a quick look, he knelt back down and nodded at Curry, who took his own peek into the room. Miranda was seated on a ladderback wooden chair in the center of the otherwise empty room, her hands tied behind her back, her face fiercely defiant despite the livid red mark across her cheek. Trudie huddled on the floor next to the chair, unbound, but apparently frozen in terror.

Bert, a hulking, ursine man with a six-shooter in his right hand and a half-empty whiskey bottle in his left, lounged against the front door, intermittently turning to look out the small, grimy window and taking a pull from the bottle as he watched Deke intimidate the women, obviously enjoying the entertainment.

Deke, clad in a soiled blue plaid shirt, stood over the bound woman, his back to the rear window. He wore a gun low on his hip. The Kid recognized Miranda's beloved Colt shoved into the back of his trousers.

"So ya like ta play rough, do ya, girlie?" Bert taunted. He pulled his arm back as if to backhand the seated girl when suddenly Trudie awakened from her stupor and launched herself at their tormentor with a scream of fury. She grabbed him around both knees, shrieking and biting and clawing at him like a wildcat.

Kid took advantage of the confusion to break the window with the butt of his revolver, shielding his face from the spray of glass shards with one arm. Even before the last glittering slice of window pane had hit the floor, he squeezed off a shot at the bear-like Bert, still positioned near the door, hitting him squarely in the wrist. The big man yelped and dropped his weapon, a fountain of blood spewing from his wound. At the same time, Heyes charged around to the front of the house and aimed a mighty kick at the front door, which flew open and crashed into his head. Bert sank to the floor as if he were boneless. Heyes was in the room in a second, Schofield drawn. Curry and his Colt now stood framed by the broken window. Both men were aiming at Deke, but neither could risk shooting without hitting Trudie, who was still struggling wildly with the large man with every molecule of her 98 pounds.

Roaring with rage, Deke finally succeeded in wrapping his large meaty hands around his assailant's torso. He picked her up bodily and tossed her across the room like a rag doll. She hit the floor with a sickening thud and lay there in a crumpled heap. Deke drew his gun, snarling Unsure as to where the largest threat was coming from, he swung it from Heyes to Curry and back to Heyes again. Miranda struggled to her feet, chair and all, and threw herself against him with the guttural scream of a wounded animal, knocking the weapon from his grip and sending him down on one knee. He cursed and reached behind his back for the Colt tucked in his belt. Before he could get a grip on it, two shots rang out almost simultaneously. Bert sank to the floor, Heyes's bullet in his shoulder, Kid's in his thigh.

Everyone seemed to be frozen in place for one long second. Then they all moved at once. Miranda, still tied to the chair, tried to crawl over to Trudie's inert form. Heyes strode across the room as Curry clambered through the window. The partners converged on Deke, who lay on the floor moaning and writhing, bleeding profusely, still trying to reach his dropped weapon. Heyes stepped forcefully on his outstretched fingers with the heel of his boot, then bent over and picked up the fallen gun and tucked it into his own waistband. The Kid grabbed Miranda's Colt with his left hand and rubbed it against his thigh, as if to clean it. He held his own gun trained on Deke, who moaned in pain, left hand clamped over his shoulder wound and right hand on the hole in his upper leg.

Heyes pulled the knife from his boot and sliced through the ropes binding Miranda to the chair. She scrambled the rest of the way across the floor and gathered Trudie in her arms.

The young blonde woman seemed dazed, but they could see she was breathing. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled weakly at Miranda and whispered, "Is it over? Are we safe?"

"Yes," her dark-haired companion said hoarsely, "We're safe now." She glanced at Heyes and Curry and smiled tentatively. The Kid passed her gun to her, which she promptly holstered and immediately returned her attention to Trudie, gently stroking her blonde hair and murmuring soothingly.

Heyes crouched down next to the couple and asked, "Everybody okay? Still got all your fingers and toes?"

"I think so," answered Trudie.

"Come on. Let's get the hell outta here," said Curry.

"What about them?" asked Miranda, as she and Heyes pulled Trudie to her feet.

"Leave 'em," said Curry. "When Bert comes to, he can see to Deke."

"Sh-shouldn't we turn them in to the Law…?" asked Trudie, still a bit wobbly.

Heyes and Curry's eyes met. Curry shrugged almost imperceptibly. Heyes said, "Tell you what. We'll bind their wounds and tie them up. When we get to the next town, we'll report them to the sheriff. He can send someone to come out here and clean up this scum."


	10. Chapter 10

Three horses and four riders were pounding across the open prairie. They didn't speak until they'd reached the wagon. Even then, they only said what few words were needed to get ready to get back onto the trail.

It wasn't until that night, in the small town of Warrenton, after Heyes had made the promised report to the sheriff, when the foursome was seated around a table in the hotel restaurant, that they spoke of what had happened. They'd checked in as two married couples. Joshua and Gertrude Smith along with his sister Miranda Jones and her husband, Thaddeus. Heyes had asked for two adjoining rooms so they could make the switch without anyone being the wiser. He had also ordered a hot bath for each room, and they'd taken turns having a nice long soak. Only now, after they'd eaten healthy helpings of the chicken and dumpling special and were tsckling the generous slices of apple pie, did Heyes bring up the subject of that day's misadventures.

"So," he began slowly, "you two ladies wanna tell us what happened today?"

"It's all my fault," confessed Miranda. "I kept tellin' Trudie I didn't wanna go to that fancy college and have to wear dresses all the time and act like a lady."

"No,no, it's all my fault," Trudie interrupted. "I was the one that said we should do what Randi said, that we should go out on our own and become lady outlaws. It sounded so…exciting and …romantic… when she'd described it last night. Like something out of a book."

"But it wasn't…?" asked Heyes tentatively.

"It started out gloriously," the young woman replied, her eyes shining. "We were galloping across the open plains on Mariah's back, our hair streaming behind us, not a care in the world," Trudie paused, then continued in a quiet voice,. "But then…but then…" her voice faltered.

Miranda took over for her. "We came to the farmhouse and decided to rest Mariah. We had brought food with us and we were sitting under a shade tree having a nice little picnic. That's when Bert and Deke showed up. They were friendly at first, but they became more and more vulgar. I insulted them, hopin' to just run them off. But that's when they turned mean. And some outlaw I turned out to be - I let those morons get the drop on me. If you hadn't come along when you did…." She paused, swallowed hard and finished simply, "Thank you. Thank you for coming after us."

"So you had enough of the Outlaw Life," asked Heyes gently.

Miranda met his eyes, her own filling up. She darted an apologetic look at Trudie, then explained, "We were tired of men always telling us what to do. First our pas, then you two. At Maryville, it'll be more of the same. We wanted to get away, to live our lives on our own terms. We didn't really think it all the way through," she said sheepishly. "I guess you must think we're pretty stupid."

"Listen, Randi," answered Heyes softly. "How old are you two? 17 and 19, right? If you only knew all the stupid things we did at that age…."

"Yeah," agreed Curry, shaking his head, his mouth quirking into the shadow of a smile. "I reckon we definitely beat you on that score. Right, Joshua?"

Heyes smiled sympathetically at the girls, his dimples framing his even, white teeth, and said, "You're the perfect age for doing stupid things. Just don't do any more, okay?"

"We won't," both young ladies fervently promised.

"We talked it over," said Trudie, glancing at Miranda, who nodded. "We both want to go to Maryville. That'll be enough of an adventure – at least for now. After we finish college, we can decide what comes next."

"It's all settled then," pronounced Heyes. "And a good thing, too. When I left the horses at the livery this afternoon, the liveryman told me we're only two days away from St. Louis.


	11. Chapter 11

Hannibal Heyes happened to be the one driving the wagon when the small party arrived at the wrought-iron gates proclaiming "Maryville College" in a scrolling, curlicued script. He turned the team of horses into the long lane, which stretched through a colonnade of elm trees surrounded by an expanse of rolling green lawn. Trudie rode Heyes's horse, Randi and the Kid each on their own mounts. Kid Curry hung back, keeping pace with the wagon, as the two girls raced ahead, excited to have finally reached their destination.

"Ya know, Heyes," Curry commented, "I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I'm kinda sorry the trip is all over."

"Yeah," mused Heyes, "I'm going to miss those two."

When they reached the Administration Building, they spotted Mariah's and Heyes's horses tied to a hitching post out front. After a few minutes, the girls burst out the door of the three-story brick building and bounded down the wide steps, in very un-ladylike fashion, which made the boys chuckle to each other.

They each held a sheaf of papers in their hands. "We're enrolled," the younger girl cried. "We're college girls now."

Randi handed one of the papers to Heyes, which featured a map of the campus. "Here's our dormitory," she said, pointing to the location on the map. "But let's stop at the stables and get Mariah settled first.

"Yes, Ma'am," Heyese said, grinning.

After they'd unloaded all the trunks and valises and carried them up two flights of stairs to the small room the girls would share, the boys began to wish their erstwhile charges farewell. But before they could say much of anything, a small, grey-haired matron bustled into the room. "Gentlemen,' she pronounced icily. "There are no men allowed in the women's dormitory. You must leave at once."

"We just lugged all their things up the steps," protested the Kid, but she would hear none of it, and swiftly and efficiently shooed them out the door and down the stairs, limiting the good byes to an abbreviated exchange of well wishes, heartfelt thanks from Trudie and Randi, and last-minute instructions to behave themselves from Heyes and Curry.

When they stood outside once more, Heyes turned to his partner. "Well, that's s thousand dollars earned the hard way. What do you say we go find a livery and sell these horses and the wagon and all our gear and take a nice, fast train back to Cheyenne to collect the rest of our pay?"

"Best idea I've heard all day, Heyes. But in between the livery and the train, how about a drink?"

"Now that's the best idea I've heard all day," grinned Heyes, slapping Curry on the back.

The better part of an hour later, after a ride into the city proper and a fair amount of haggling with the proprietor of a nearby livery, the partners sat in a smoke-filled workingman's bar along the riverbank in the section of St. Louis known as LaClede's Landing. Each held a mug of beer, a local brew according to the friendly bartender, with the nearly unpronounceable name of Budweiser. As they sipped the light but refreshing lagers, they continued the argument they'd begun the day they'd rescued Trudie and Miranda from a life of crime - or worse.

Kid asked earnestly, "Now, I'm not sayin' it was a smart idea or that I regret stoppin' 'em, but I keep thinkin' -

"There you go again Kid," teased Heyes, interrupting his partner, "violating our agreement."

Curry ignored him and plowed on, " - I keep thinkin', what right do we have to tell them what to do? How to live their lives? Didn't we run off and become outlaws right about the same age they are right now?

"And look how that turned out," pointed out Heyes, brown eyes twinkling.

"Come on, Heyes, it wasn't all bad. In fact it was pretty damn great for a long time. We made a name for ourselves."

"Yeah, but you're forgetting: we're men. They're ladies."

"So we're allowed to be outlaws if we want and they can't? Don't that make us just as bad as those hypocritical so-called Christians?"

"Kid, we're not telling them how to live their lives; we're just keeping them safe. They may look like grown women, but they're really still just kids, after all. And we promised their Pas we'd deliver 'em safely to that college. And for that we collect a thousand dollars. _And_ we make the governor a happy man. And that takes us one step closer to our amnesty. And who knows? Maybe they'll like it. Maybe they'll learn something there. Trudie loves books, so she'll probably like it. And Randi loves Trudie, so she'll like being there with her. And what they choose to do after that is entirely up to them. And they just better not run off and try to become lady outlaws again. The governor wouldn't like that one bit. He'd think we influenced them."

"Maybe they'll go back to the Lazy S Ranch and run it together." speculated Curry.

"Yeah, I could see that. I think that's where they'd be happiest. And everyone deserves to be happy, right Kid?"

"Here's to being happy, Heyes."

They clunked their beer mugs together in a toast.

Three beers (each) later, the partners exited the saloon. As they strolled along the muddy road, heading toward the train station for the return trip, they stopped to admire the view of the wide, grey-brown river. Dotted with barges and steamboats plying the waters in both directions and with the opposite shore almost a full mile away, it was an impressive site.

"There she is, the Mighty Mississippi. The Big Muddy. Father of Waters and all that," pronounced Heyes dramatically. "Mark Twain claims this river has a new story to tell every single day. Ya know, I've never been across it – never even seen it before now. Damn. It really is as big and wide as they say."

"Yep," agreed Curry. "I was just a little kid when Pa took us to Philadelphia to visit my grandma, but I'll never forget the first time I saw it. We rode a riverboat across. But now there's a bridge all the way over to Illinois." He pointed at the steel trussed structure spanning the wide river. "Ya know, Heyes, long as we're here, we could cross that bridge. Just so's you could say you've been over to the other side."

"Naw, Kid. No need. I reckon I belong in the West."

"Me too, Heyes. Me too."

The partners turned on their heels and strode away from the river, heading westward, heading towards home.

~ END ~

Author's Notes: This story started out to be one of my standard "Kid meets Girl. Girl falls for Kid. Kid breaks girl's heart" stories. (I think that's what most of them are at least!) However, when Trudie and Randie showed up, they had a different story in mind and they insisted I tell it. I really think Kid and Heyes would have accepted them the way they do in this tale. I worried about the gals getting rescued by our heroes, because I wanted to show them as capable and independent in their own right. However, I told myself they are only 17 and 19 and haven't seen much of the world yet, so it is okay they needed a little bit of rescuing. They are certainly not helpless! AND it's painfully true that despite their independent thinking, they would have been quite vulnerable to the kind of brutes that prey on women of all walks of life. We have come such a long, long way since the 19th Century, when couples such as Trudie and Randie would have had to deny their true selves or be forced to live a double life, hiding their love. I sincerely hope that things only move forward in terms of civil rights and public acceptance for all people, regardless of their sexual orientation, including some very good friends and relatives whose (finally legal!) weddings I have been privileged to attend.

And now, for a little history lesson:

 **The beer** : Compiled from the Budweiser website, the The Society for Historical Archeology, and Wikipedia:

 _"_ _It is my aim to win the American people over … to make them all lovers of beer." - Adolphus Busch (1905)_

[Budweiser's] founder, Adolphus Busch, journeyed to America from Germany in 1857, determined to make his dreams come true. Adolphus wasted no time once he landed in St. Louis, and started work at a brewing supply company. Among his clients was Eberhard Anheuser (the name might sound familiar), who owned what was then known as E. Anheuser & Company. Adolphus married Eberhard's daughter, Lilly, in 1861.

After fighting for the Union during the Civil War, Adolphus joined his father-in-law's business, bringing big, ambitious ideas with him. Adolphus's entrepreneurial spirit and sales prowess contributed enormously to the brewery's growth. By 1875, Adolphus was named secretary-treasurer. [He would become President after his Anheuser's death.]

Before Budweiser was introduced, many Americans were drinking heavy, dark ales. But St. Louis summers were hot – perfect for a palatable, crisp lager. So Adolphus jumped on the opportunity to create and brew a beer that would be perfect for those hot summers. And he always knew a great beer when he tasted one. Apparently, although his company (only later to be renamed Anheuser-Busch) manufactured and bottled Budweiser, he didn't actually create the famous brew himself. That is attributed to his friend, Carl Conrad.

Budweiser, an American-style pale lager, was introduced in 1876 by Carl Conrad & Co. It has grown to become one of the highest selling beers in the United States and is available in over 80 markets Conrad, a friend of Adolphus Busch, toured Europe in the mid-1870s, returning by 1876. The story goes that Conrad dined at a small monastery in Bohemia "where he was served a brew he declared to be 'the best he ever tasted.'"

Upon his return, Conrad began setting up Carl Conrad & Co. to market Budweiser Beer (named for the town of Budweis in Bavaria), although Conrad neither brewed beer nor manufactured bottles. Adolphus Busch actually made and bottled the beer.

Budweiser's smoothness and drinkability was a success. Thanks to Adolphus's expansive shipping network (and his innovative pasteurizing techniques), Budweiser quickly became wildly popular not just in St. Louis, but across America.

 **The Bridge** \- from Wikipedia: Eads Bridge is a combined road and railway steel bridge over the Mississippi River at St. Louis, connecting St. Louis, Missouri and East St, Louis, Illinois. Opened in 1874, it was one of the earliest long bridges built across the Mississippi, the world' first all steel construction, and built high enough so steamboats could travel under. As such, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Places as a National Historic Landmark.

 **ASJ miscellania**

I am pretty sure Heyes met Wyatt Earp during Season 3, but I don't like to watch those episodes. I don't think they ever met Wild Bill Hickock in the series, but they certainly could have, since they seemed to roam all over the west and so did Hickock. Before his death in in 1876, he lived in Kansas, Nebraska, and both Wyoming and Dakota Territories, and also traveled around with Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. So they could easily have met him before they started going for the amnesty. (And of course, the Kid would easily have beat him to the draw, no matter how good he was, because he's Kid Curry!)

Randie could very well have read about Calamity Jane, seeing as "Calamity Jane became more famous for being a dime novel heroine than for her own shabby deeds, beginning in 1877 when a character with that generic name appeared in the very first Deadwood Dick series entry," according to the book, _Bad Boys of the Black Hills and Some Wild Women Too_ by Barbara Fifer.

We all have heard Heyes say he's "never been east of the Mississippi," but know that the Kid has been all the way to dusty Philadelphia. I don't know that Heyes has ever seen the Mississippi or not. I believed he and the Kid robbed a bank in St. Louis once, but I am operating on the assumption that he was way too busy planning and robbing and getting away to take in the sights!

One last thing about the Mississippi River: I have walked across it! (At its source, at Lake Itasca, Minnesota, where it is less than knee-deep and only about 20 feet across or so.)


End file.
